Today it is pissing down rain. Our relatively-newly-acquired Cairn terrier has never had to take his walk in such a deluge, but he was a brave little guy, wearing his soon-sodden red fleece coat, and after a little while, he began to discover the joys of walking in the rain, even if you have to stop and shake yourself wildly and frequently. You can chase the water rushing down to the storm drains, and have a little sip of the foamy stuff. You can still sniff things, and the rain has melted a lot of the snow, so there’re plenty of uncovered things to sniff. We walked along, pretty happy, getting wetter and wetter. I found some nice wooden animals and a very large penny (about 4 inches across) that must have dropped out of someone’s trash. And the dog, frisking up onto someone’s lawn, found the snowman’s nose. The snowman himself was pretty sad looking, but the nose was a gorgeous glowing orange, washed fresh by the rain, lurking in the sodden grass. Mister Dog immediately sat down and ate the whole thing.
Isn’t it funny what a little context will do? He’s been completely ptui-ing any carrot I give him for dinner lately, but this was an exotic wild carrot that he’d hunted himself, people. Not some tame variety from the fridge, all cut up into little nubbins rolling around insipidly in his dish. I think I’ll invent a new saying: instead of “the bees knees,” I’m going to start saying “the snowman’s nose.”
Now we’re home, and he’s larking about in the living room, completely invigorated and refreshed. I’m feeling pretty good, too, because I got a nice piece of work done this morning, pre-walk, and I’m looking forward to lunch and more work. Then both boys will come here after school (usually Seth goes to Anne’s on Wednesdays) and we will all be cozy, with the rain pelting down. It’s the nose! (You know whose.)
The Total Femme 